


White

by mrstater



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Madness, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/pseuds/mrstater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In her madness, Daenerys was childlike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Red](https://archiveofourown.org/works/452958) by [mrstater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/pseuds/mrstater). 



In her madness, Daenerys was childlike. Perhaps more child than ever her exile had allowed her to be.

Strangely, it did Jorah’s heart good to see her so, though he loved the woman he’d watched her become. At seventeen, she was slighter of build than Lyanna and Erena, who scampered  ahead of her out of the keep into the freshly fallen snow and began packing it into snowballs with their bare hands, and the way she clung to Maege’s hand on one side and Aly’s on the other, emerging with uncertain steps into the drifts she viewed through violet eyes too large for her thin white face, made her lookyounger than her years.

"This is snow?" she asked.

Not young _,_ Jorah thought, as he watched her, _innocent._ True enough she was tentative, but he had seen Daenerys a terrified girl-bride, and the wide eyes had not then been luminous, her bloodless face not split with a red-lipped grin.

Releasing the women’s hands, she pulled off her white sealskin gloves, drew back the hood of her ice bear cloak, and lifted her face and hands toward the cloud-filled sky. Laughter rang out from her wide open mouth as her feet, swimming in sturdy fur-lined boots, began to turn in a clumsy childish circle.

He had been right to bring her here: the remoteness of Bear Island would make her feel safe, the quietness would grant her rest; in time, her broken mind might heal.

And then she shrieked. A cry that shattered the silence of the wood and ceased the play of the young she-bears, who blinked their black eyes in bewilderment at the once and fallen Dragon Queen curled like a newborn babe on the snowy ground.

The first scream had arrested Jorah’s heart in his chest; the second shocked it back to life and he sprang into motion, scattering snow in white puffs as he battled through it to fall at her side. Blood red speckled the frosty ground, her white coat, her pale skin, as curled fingers clawed at her face. Barking at his aunt and cousin to find her gloves, _gods damn it_ , Jorah grasped her wrists, pulling her hands from her face, where mingled with the half-moons of blood tears, half frozen, shimmered.

"Why did you tell me it was snow, Ser Jorah?" she sobbed. “It is not snow, it is _ashes_. The ashes of my people…the ashes of my children…the ashes of little Hazzea…And oh gods!" Her hands trembled as Maege and Aly plunged the gloves over them, and she collapsed, shivering, into his embrace. “They are so cold…and yet burn!"

Jorah did not try to reason with her; after all, he saw the sense in her madness, felt the frosty beads of moisture that stuck and stung his own cheeks.

"Let’s get you inside, child," he said, low, and swept into his arms the girl who once had walked Unburnt through fire, but now was scorched by ice.


End file.
